fight
about with Jenny.
He had a quick chat with two of
the staff and they marked Damien off their list. The boy himself
was holding onto his hand and bouncing up and down, possibly aware
this was his last day before his four weeks (or was it five) of
summer holidays. There were no cute moms to look at but Eoin was
glad of that as he wasn't in the mood for flirting. This was Friday
with Damien and there were traditions to be followed and drooling
over cute moms wasn't one of them.
They went inside to get
Damien’s little rucksack, packed with a few essential knick-knacks
for his weekend stay with his dad. The very fact that this little
travel bag existed at all was sad. What a strange and splintered
way to grow up, for Damien and all those other kids in Sweden who
were bounced from one parent to another like letters with the wrong
address on them.
Damien continued to babble as
they left the day-care—these days he rarely stopped talking except
to sleep—and he swung his dad's arm as they proceeded to their
first stop, the Filmland video store.
Damien knew the routine and he
ran in and positioned himself in front of the kid's films with a
contemplative frown. He pulled out four or five DVDs that he liked
the look of and sat on the floor to study the back of each one.
Eoin's job was to stand behind him, shove him out of the way if
somebody wanted to pass, and gently point out which ones he'd seen
before, which Damien would then fervently deny.
The next stop was the little
shop around the corner from their tunnelbana station. Here they
bought some sweets and a small bag of crisps each, saying goodbye
to the owner's ancient Labrador as they left. After that they
hurried home, strolling past lightly-dressed youngsters who were on
their way to some sunny spot with pizzas and bags of beer-cans to
celebrate the weekend.
Eoin glanced at them and
wondered if they realised they were enjoying the most carefree days
of their lives. Did they know that in a year or three or five it
would all be over and would never return? Or perhaps they were
completely right not to think about it. Maybe it was best to just
enjoy the moment while it lasted.
They reached the flat where
Damien kicked off his shoes and charged straight for the bed. It
was a compact apartment and when Damien was staying Eoin gave the
boy his own bed while he slept on the fold-out sofa. There wasn't
really space for any other solution.
Damien hauled out the plastic
box of toys from underneath the bed and started tossing them around
while Eoin went off to the kitchen to plan dinner. Dinner when
Damien was around had to be something that Damien approved of.
There had been great plans when he'd been little to serve him
casseroles and quiches and home-made bread. Those plans had
collapsed in fatigue and endless moaning so now most dinners
involving Damien tended to be a mix of things he liked, things he
possibly liked, and things he might be bribed into trying with
chocolate.
Eoin took out the things for
dinner and arranged them on the counter-top—a few pork hot dogs,
pasta, cream, tinned corn, carrots, garlic and parsley. Then he sat
down by his laptop and had a quick look at Diamond Date.
There was one new mail, but not
from a very interesting person. He read through it quickly and
decided it wasn’t worth replying so he closed the laptop. He poured
a glass of wine and sipped at it while he stared out the window,
lost in erotic daydreams.
This took him nicely to six, at
which time he got up and turned on the children's TV programs.
Damien abandoned his Lego robot and positioned himself cross-legged
in front of the television with his mouth hanging open. There he
would remain, essentially not moving, for a glorious forty-five
minutes.
Eoin pictured every child in
the country doing the same, while their parents slipped discretely
into the bedroom. There was even a phrase in Sweden—Bolibompa
sex—for quick and silent sex enjoyed while children’s TV was
keeping
about with Jenny.
He had a quick chat with two of
the staff and they marked Damien off their list. The boy himself
was holding onto his hand and bouncing up and down, possibly aware
this was his last day before his four weeks (or was it five) of
summer holidays. There were no cute moms to look at but Eoin was
glad of that as he wasn't in the mood for flirting. This was Friday
with Damien and there were traditions to be followed and drooling
over cute moms wasn't one of them.
They went inside to get
Damien’s little rucksack, packed with a few essential knick-knacks
for his weekend stay with his dad. The very fact that this little
travel bag existed at all was sad. What a strange and splintered
way to grow up, for Damien and all those other kids in Sweden who
were bounced from one parent to another like letters with the wrong
address on them.
Damien continued to babble as
they left the day-care—these days he rarely stopped talking except
to sleep—and he swung his dad's arm as they proceeded to their
first stop, the Filmland video store.
Damien knew the routine and he
ran in and positioned himself in front of the kid's films with a
contemplative frown. He pulled out four or five DVDs that he liked
the look of and sat on the floor to study the back of each one.
Eoin's job was to stand behind him, shove him out of the way if
somebody wanted to pass, and gently point out which ones he'd seen
before, which Damien would then fervently deny.
The next stop was the little
shop around the corner from their tunnelbana station. Here they
bought some sweets and a small bag of crisps each, saying goodbye
to the owner's ancient Labrador as they left. After that they
hurried home, strolling past lightly-dressed youngsters who were on
their way to some sunny spot with pizzas and bags of beer-cans to
celebrate the weekend.
Eoin glanced at them and
wondered if they realised they were enjoying the most carefree days
of their lives. Did they know that in a year or three or five it
would all be over and would never return? Or perhaps they were
completely right not to think about it. Maybe it was best to just
enjoy the moment while it lasted.
They reached the flat where
Damien kicked off his shoes and charged straight for the bed. It
was a compact apartment and when Damien was staying Eoin gave the
boy his own bed while he slept on the fold-out sofa. There wasn't
really space for any other solution.
Damien hauled out the plastic
box of toys from underneath the bed and started tossing them around
while Eoin went off to the kitchen to plan dinner. Dinner when
Damien was around had to be something that Damien approved of.
There had been great plans when he'd been little to serve him
casseroles and quiches and home-made bread. Those plans had
collapsed in fatigue and endless moaning so now most dinners
involving Damien tended to be a mix of things he liked, things he
possibly liked, and things he might be bribed into trying with
chocolate.
Eoin took out the things for
dinner and arranged them on the counter-top—a few pork hot dogs,
pasta, cream, tinned corn, carrots, garlic and parsley. Then he sat
down by his laptop and had a quick look at Diamond Date.
There was one new mail, but not
from a very interesting person. He read through it quickly and
decided it wasn’t worth replying so he closed the laptop. He poured
a glass of wine and sipped at it while he stared out the window,
lost in erotic daydreams.
This took him nicely to six, at
which time he got up and turned on the children's TV programs.
Damien abandoned his Lego robot and positioned himself cross-legged
in front of the television with his mouth hanging open. There he
would remain, essentially not moving, for a glorious forty-five
minutes.
Eoin pictured every child in
the country doing the same, while their parents slipped discretely
into the bedroom. There was even a phrase in Sweden—Bolibompa
sex—for quick and silent sex enjoyed while children’s TV was
keeping
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